


The Evolution of Clarke Griffin

by missmay



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Canon 4x13, F/M, Reunions, Season/Series 05, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-12 16:03:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11165262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmay/pseuds/missmay
Summary: Clarke survives Praimfaya and faces the threat of nuclear winter alone. Or is she? As the Earth heals enough for human habitation over the next five years, Clarke makes a life for herself without her friends who are living their own lives miles above and below her. A year after what was supposed to be the new Unity day, a prison transport unexpectedly lands and threatens all Clarke now holds dear.----Or my take on the events of Season 5 to help with the grief caused by the Season 4 finale. Spoilers.





	1. The Beginning

DAY 2

 

The first thing Clarke was aware of in the darkness was excruciating pain. Every inch of her body both inside and out was on fire. Unable to bite it back, a scream erupted from her chest only to cut off abruptly as the strain on her head, lungs and throat robbed her of consciousness once again.

 

DAY 3

 

Struggling to the surface once more, she was unsurprised by the overwhelming pain. The flames were still licking at her skin and lighting up her nerve endings with agony, but her insides had faded to a dull, pulsing ache. This time her tongue was so cracked and engorged that she could barely breathe, never mind articulate the pain she felt.

Dehydration.

If the Death Wave had not burned the life from her body by now, the lack of water would surely drain her to death soon. Given the amount of pain she was in, there was little doubt that relief would come sooner rather than later. Her eyes were crusted shut, but she managed to slowly crack one open enough to take in her blurred surroundings. A table was right in front of her, lit by a weak fluorescent light hanging overhead.

She had made it to the lab.

The rocket had gone.

They were gone.

She was alone.

The thought made her shut her eye and give in to the bodily pain and mental anguish she was feeling. Sucking in a breath against the tight band of emotion in her chest, she wanted to cry, but knew there was nothing left for tears.

Breath.

Still breathing.

Hope.

Bellamy.

If she was still breathing against the odds, she had to believe that the rocket made it. That they had made it to The Ark. That hope made their reunion seem possible. The bunker would open, and the last clan would emerge older, but whole. She would see everyone on Earth again. Humanity would survive again. She just had to keep breathing.

Resolved, she opened her eye again, and the world seemed a little less blurry. There was black on the floor and staining the orange of her suit. Clearly blood loss would be an issue, on top of the dehydration and in addition to the burns she felt.

Wonderful.

Since the black blood appeared to have dried, and she was still alive, she had to assume that she wasn’t actively bleeding from anywhere vital. The burns were more concerning, especially secondary infection, but burns required significant amounts of water to heal. Her parched tongue pressed against the roof of her mouth at the thought of water and she found the will to move her outstretched arm back to her body. The movement made the unseen boils and burns on her skin pop, which caused her to release a keening noise from her tortured throat. Blackness was overtaking the corners of her vision. Picturing her friends finding her desiccated body in Becca’s lab in five years spurred her on to move her leg.

Arm.

Leg.

Other leg.

As she cleared the edge of the table, she paused to rest and got her first clear view of the lab. The rocket was indeed gone behind the sealed launch bay doors. A few feet away a crate was overturned with ration packs strewn on the floor. Did they run out of room? Had they spilled and not had time to repack them? Freeze-dried meals and dehydrated fruits would do her no good, unless she got water. Just behind the crate, pushed against the wall, was a tank. Raven must not have emptied the tank she had used to reboot her brain. Thoughts of drinking what was essentially bathwater fled her mind as she put her body in motion again towards the tank. Upon reaching it, she looked for a release valve of some kind. There it was, attached to a short length of hose. Releasing the knob, she gulped at the spewing water as best she could until she had her fill. She clumsily closed the knob again to conserve what appeared to be her only immediate water source. Exhausted, she laid her head on the wet floor and let the darkness claim her.

Upon waking a short while later, Clarke drank more and used some of the spilled water to release her other eye from its crust. Her tongue had already reduced in size. The immediate threat of dehydration abated for now she turned her attention to treating her burns. Step one? Getting out of the suit to assess the damage. This was going to be fun, since she was pretty sure that what was left of her skin was now attached to the orange material. Shaking, she gripped her left glove with her right hand and slowly began to pull…

 

\----Meanwhile in Go-Sci Station ----

“Are you going to spend all your down time in here for the next five years?” Raven questioned as she entered the Earth Viewing room and came to stand beside a silent Bellamy. Without waiting for an answer, she continued, “The guys and Echo have almost finished the preliminaries for the algae farm, so we should start seeing algae blooms soon. Apparently, Murphy is a useful set of hands when his mouth is shut. Who would have thought?” She sighed before pressing on. “Emori and Harper are still taking stock in Medical,” at this she snorted disbelievingly, “Not that we can expect any of us to know what to do with half of what they’ve found. Although the oxygenator upgrades mean that we’ll at least be breathing happy for our space-vegetarian future... Did you finish separating out the rations?”

Nodding, Bellamy couldn’t tear his eyes away from the burning planet. “Once the essential repairs are done, what about the Station’s comm system?”

“Some components are missing and if I had to guess I would say we have the last inhabitants to thank for scavenging tech before they left. I may be able to get a basic radio running using some of the rocket’s less-fried comm components. But Bellamy…even if I can, look.” She answered, gesturing to the fiery Earth in front of them and meeting his tired gaze with sunken eyes of her own. “There is no way a signal is getting through to the bunker with all that interference. It will take a month or more for the fire to settle, then clearing the ash clouds could take years.”

Turning back to the window, they stood in silence with their thoughts for a moment before Bellamy slowly raised his hand to press against the glass and lowered his head. Seeing this, Raven mirrored his actions and murmured “I miss her too.”

 

 


	2. Bekka Lab

DAY 8

As her injuries healed, Clarke was able to move more freely and the quiet in the lab became overbearing. She quickly set up a routine to log both the days and her daily activities to the Ark frequency. It gave her something to look forward to, as well as the opportunity to reflect on her situation. Talking to the radio was almost as good as having someone else there, and it had the added benefit of not having her talk to a wall. Occasionally seeing the others in various lab corners was the type of delusion she could chalk up to her current situation and the traumatic events of the last few years. Having those delusions talking back was one experience she’d rather avoid for her own sanity if she could help it.

Heck, even looking at her reflection this morning had been an experience. The burns were almost gone, her hair was fried and her eyes were a new shade of blue. The light in the lab may be dim, a problem she couldn’t fix without going outside to the solar farm, but she had no trouble seeing. Glancing a the dimly lit clock, she left off her pressing commitment of reading every book, pamphlet and manual the lab had to offer, and plunked herself down next to the radio.

“ _Bekka_ Lab to Go-Sci Station, come in Go-Sci Station.” She released the button, hoping for a sound.

Silence.

Pressing the button again, she started her log. “Bellamy. It’s Clarke, on Day 8 since Praimfaya. Yes, I’m still breathing.” At this she took a deep breathe, almost to prove her point. Her thoughts drifted to The Ark, circling high above her.

“I wonder what the planet looks like from up there?  Bet it looks like a raging inferno – at least that’s what it feels like in here. Must be a good thing that it’s too hot to wear much, although I did succeed in changing my shirt without my skin feeling like I was being dragged through the dirt.” At that, Roan stepped into the circle of light on the floor and settled himself against the table’s edge. Purposely ignoring her own delusion, because he was dead too, she closed her eyes and kept going.

“I couldn’t believe it but the burns have left no scarring. At least everyone, including Echo, will be able to recognize me. I was afraid I’d have to become a horribly disfigured hermit that no one would know anymore.” Biting her lip, she imagined a witty response.

“Yes Murphy, I know I’m a hermit now, but a girl can dream of her friends in high places right?” Sighing into the silence, she opened her eyes and was relieved to find herself alone again.

 “Even my old scars are gone, which should be impossible, and medically I can’t find a reason for it other than the nightblood. What other secrets was Becca hiding in this stuff?”  

“I’ve had no luck reaching the bunker. That’s all for today I guess. Talk to you tomorrow.”

 

DAY 34

 

In the last month, Clarke had become a master of solitaire and chess, the only two games on the computer in Becca’s office. Did _Bekka Pramheda_ not do anything that involved a hobby? The computer having lost its novel appeal, she turned her attention to what books were in the lab. According to the clock she still had time to kill. Unfortunately, she couldn’t simply beat time to death with the heavy Genetics book currently residing on her lap.

Later that day, the lights in the lab dimmed to almost nothing. The power was going out. Something must have been interfering with the solar farm more than the radiation had been or the initial Death Wave. What could knock out solar cells that had survived two nuclear apocalypses and 97 years of no maintenance? Digging through the filing cabinet of manuals and paperwork, Clarke found the one on solar energy and flipped to the FAQ section. Halfway down the last page, she read:

* * *

>  
> 
> DEMINISHING POWER RETURNS
> 
> Solar exposure reduction, for positioning tips; 82F
> 
> Battery failure; contact manufacturer for replacement

* * *

 

Great.

If Raven were here, she could fix the power with a plastic sheet, a ration pack, some spare wire and a healthy thwack to the electrical panel for good measure.

Too bad Raven was tens of thousands of miles away in space, with her own technical troubles involving a defunct radio.

Think Clarke.

The burning left in the wake of the Death Wave must have abated enough for something to change. Could the heavy rains caused by the build up of humidity in the atmosphere knocked the solar panels out of position? Did the ash clouds block out the sun so completely? Or was ash building up on the panels themselves? What the issue was did not make a lick of difference because she was stuck in here, unable to go and check or even do anything productive. Huffing in frustration, Clarke slammed the filing cabinet drawer shut. With almost another month to go according to her rations, she needs to conserve what power was left in the batteries for essential things, like the small oxygenator and charging the radio battery until she could switch it to the solar pack once she was outside the lab. What could she turn off in the meantime?

Lights. It was almost time for her radio call and that was something she could do without lights and monitors. Better to be in the dark for awhile at least and extend the batteries. After searching the lab for a flashlight or lantern, she comes up empty handed. She proceeds to walk around and flip every light switch she could find anyway and soon finds herself in an underground lab with no lights on. Blinking slowly, she hoped for her night vision to kick in enough to at least navigate the path to the radio. With her hands out, she walked in the direction of the radio. Hitting the desk with a slight “Hmph” of breath, she sits in the chair, and nearly missed her seat. Suddenly afraid to reach out for the handset in case she knocks the whole radio to the ground, she sits with her hands in her lap. Minutes tick by, and she knows she’ll have to turn on at least some light to see by, thus limiting her battery life. Gnawing her lower lip, she looks around and notices that she can actually see the radio in front of her. Everything has taken on a slight green tinge, otherwise she would have suspected that the lights had switched back on. Standing quickly, she catches her reflection in the darkened glass of one of the monitors. The new light blue of her eyes is like a silver flash as she shifts her gaze between her two eyes.

Holy shit. She can see in the dark.

Is this the result of the radiation? The nightblood? Will it last long enough to conserve the battery power for another month?

Out of habit, she checks the clock, which she can see in its greenish glory from across the room.  
It’s time for her radio call.

Grabbing the handset and pressing the transmit button, she slips into routine, “Bellamy. If you can hear me. It’s been 34 days since Praimfaya.” Here she pauses, does she tell him about this newest development? No. Especially for something that may wear off before they return to the ground.

“Based on our earlier calculations, there should be algae blooms, although not enough to eat yet. Most of the rations you left behind were lentils, so someone up there must really hate them. Well, after a month of high-protein lentils, I hope you enjoy your algae salads more. I would arm wrestle Echo for some dried deer right now.”

“I spent a year in solitary after my dad was floated. I don’t know that I ever talked to you about that. Maybe you knew. I doubt that when the head engineer is floated, and his daughter is put in the Sky Box there is not a good amount of talk. While I was in there, it wasn’t true solitude. The meal trays came and went. The doctor visited once a month. I could hear some of what happened outside my door. Here, none of that happens.” In an attempt to lighten the heavy topic, she tries to joke. “It would make for a great horror story if the only person left on the surface of the Earth hears a knock at the lab door. Well, that’s something to think about when I try to sleep tonight. At least you guys have no shortage of beds and rooms up there. Maybe that will make the fever of a confined space more bearable. How are the grounders in space adjusting? Not such an oxymoron after all huh? I miss you guys. I hope you’re all well. May we meet again.”

 

DAY 59

“Bellamy. If you’re there. It’s been 59 days since Praimfaya. Still no word from the bunker. I have packed the rest of the rations, layered enough clothing under my cleaned radiation suit and charged all the radio batteries. I figured the radiation suit couldn’t hurt, even if I shattered the mask during the Death Wave. Tomorrow I open the door. I have been debating whether to just wait until the end of my rations, but I want to have the chance to find something to eat before I’m starving. I’m not sure what to expect, but as far as I can tell my nightblood is active enough to handle the current radiation levels.”

At this she released the button on the handset before adding, “I hope.”

Pressing the button again she continued. “I was thinking about all the things I wished I had said before the apocalypse. I would tell my mom that I love her. I would tell Octavia that she did the right thing in sharing the bunker and that she’ll make a great _Heda_. To you guys I would say: Murphy, don’t be a jerk. Emori, take care of Murphy. Monty, you’re brilliant and Jasper was lucky to have you as his friend. Harper, you’re stronger than you think. Echo, please keep them all on their toes. I wouldn’t want any of you getting soft in space. Raven, you’re a genius in your own right. You don’t need anyone else in that brain of yours.” At this she takes a breath to calm her voice. “Bellamy, you don’t need forgiveness. You did the right thing, as always. Thank you for taking care of them. Take care of each other. May we meet again.”  


End file.
